New Vegas Blues
by SrgDark
Summary: A story set in the Mojave Wasteland, it follows the story of the Courier, but through the eyes of one Vincent Kane, who is a courier himself unassociated with the the job that starts the game.
1. Round 1

_So here it is, my take on Fallout New Vegas fanfic. It is set in its current storyline, so expect to see old faces, but also new characters, one of which is going to be main POV for the most of the story. Though it does start a around a week before the main storyline.  
>It will contain refrences and such to other canon games, Fallout 3 included, so those that might not know anything of Fallout verse might miss out on a few snippets, but I´ll do my best to offer some info on places that are visited and such in author notes.<br>_

_Oh, and as always, no copyright infringement is intended, nor am I making money off this. Fallout Universe belongs to bigger folks than me.  
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><p><strong>NEW VEGAS BLUES<strong>  
><strong>ROUND 1, BROWN AND RED WASTELAND<strong>

Mojave Wasteland is a bad place to live in these days. Not that it was better before, but these days, ever since the NCR and Legion started clashing all over the place after the First Battle of Hover Dam, things were escalating horribly. Their fights have been happening on Vegas side of the river too, too close to comfort for some.  
>Things weren´t being better with small bands of raiders, remnants of once widespread Jackals, pillaging and killing in the south, very near the main roads.<p>

Still, Vincent Kane always tried to make the best of his options. So when an opportunity for work presented itself, even if it meant trekking all the way to the Goodsprings to deliver some package to local doctor, he took it without hesitation. Well, he did have to deliver a one other package to Sloan first.  
>After all, he liked his new job. It was safe enough, he was paid well and it was unlikely he will run into any old acquaintances or even old enemies.<p>

Now that he was going over the countryside, avoiding the road and settlements to make the most of his time, he did feel a bit lonely. Usually, there are quite a number of folks going in and out of the Mojave Express office, but it was so empty, like there was some big job that needed all the folks out there. Only one he saw was that Ulysses fellow, who promptly took off after they exchanged few words, saying that he has some urgent stuff to do.  
>Vincent shrugged it off and went his own way. After all, he will be the first to tell someone not to poke their nose in someone else´s business.<p>

That being said, he did have to admit that Ulysses was an odd one who apparently did not mind at all some of the rumors that are circling around about him. Which only made Vincent more curious, but well...  
>At least others weren´t that introverted, Vincent got along with several of them, but he couldn´t call any of them friends yet. They weren´t that close and he was reluctant to get close to someone in case his past surfaces, however unlikely that may be.<p>

He released a tired sigh as he glanced around the place he was at right now. Nothing but rocks and dry grass, with dominant color brown. Everything was brown. It hardly gave any character to this place, all that damn brown. Coupled with the seemingly always cloudless sky, this place becomes quite unbearable from time to time. Like today... if some radscorpion, raider or other thing wasteland can spit at him does not get him one day, the bloody heat most likely will. With another sigh as he kicked off some dust off his shoulders, he continued on.

Luckily, he made it to Sloan without any troubles.

As he approached the miner that was standing on the road, weathered old man in rugged worker clothes wearing a yellow protective helmet looked him over with more than little suspicion in his eyes.

Vincent didn´t blame him for doing so, because he did look a bit dangerous in his custom outfit. He wore worn out military boots, brown trousers that had several light metal plates sewn into them to protect the wearer and a chest piece of desert pattern camouflage combat armor that had more than a few scratches and dents. Over it all he wore a coat that reached down to his knees, also brown and dusty from the road. He had just one visible weapon, which he carried on his hip.  
>His old custom M1911 Colt, with an more durable barrel that carries an inscription ´Ipsa scientia protestas est´ on the side and an white oak reinforced grip.<p>

´Hello there stranger. I advise you not to walk any further north of here, or you might end up as deathclaw snack.´ old man said, still suspicious about him.

´ Deathclaws? I see... I´ll take your word for it old man, though I did not plan on going there in any case.´ Vincent reached into his pack, taking out the package and handing it to the man. ´ Here, I´m a courier and this package is for Chomps Lewis, the foreman of the quarry. ´

´ Oh, I see. You´re a courier. Thanks son, I´m Chomps. ´ man accepted the package, that suspicion rapidly fading away. Vincent merely nodded, pleased that he guessed right that this man is the foreman. ´ Isn´t it a bit early for it to arrive? I was told I would take at least another day for it to get here. ´

´ I walked through most of the night. They said it needed to be delivered right away. ´ Vincent told him, taking out a cigarette.

´ That´s mighty nice of you son, but you ought to be more careful. Desert ain´t a safe place at night. Or day for that matter... ´ foreman voice trailed off as he glanced over his shoulder.

´ Something bugging you? ´ Vincent asked as he lit his cigarette. He liked having all the info on the situations around himself. It is always good to be prepared for all possible scenarios.

´ Son, best not get me started. I´ll give you a fair warning though. Some of them convicts from that NCR prison facility rioted and took it over. Now they´re all over the place, blowing things up, stealing and setting up sentries. ´

´ That so? ´ Vincent muttered. He didn´t think things were this lousy and this might make his return trip to Primm a bit more difficult. Perhaps he was lucky, he thought, because he didn´t run into any of the prisoners on his way here. If he does run into them, he will deliver some proper wasteland justice. That always works. ´ Thanks, I´ll keep that in mind. I hope someone comes along and takes care of those deathclaws soon enough. ´ he said as he turned and walked away.

´ Yeah, me too. ´ muttered to himself the foreman as he watched the courier walk off under the light of the morning sun, the light wind making his cloak sway to the side as the dust swirled around his boots.

An hour later or so, Vincent found himself looking down an grisly scene on the I-15, quite close to the junction that was leading to the NCR correctional facility.

A trading caravan was ambushed there, most likely with explosives, because there were brahmin and man pieces all over the place. A couple of surviving traders were desperately fighting off some men that wore prisoner clothes or even riot guard armor. Their fight ended abruptly as another dynamite charge exploded, blowing the two men apart. Remaining guard, a woman, was caught moments later.

´ _Looks like I arrived just a moment too late..._ ´ nevertheless, Vincent took out his custom Colt and made his way down the slope as fast as he could, keeping to the rocks so that they don´t notice him.

Three remaining prisoners were now holding the woman down, stripping her. Most likely, they would pass her around and then kill her.

Vincent did not plan on letting that happen. Without a word, he walked up to them, pressed his gun by the temple of the first guy and pulled the trigger, blowing his brains all over the place. Second one had time to turn his head and look at the barrel before he too got killed. Third one had some sense, jerking the woman up and placing a knife by her throat.

´ Stay back! Or she gets it! ´ he yelled at Vincent. Woman looked pleadingly at Vincent, noticing for the first time the man who just killed two of those bastards without hesitation. He looked like a wastelander, but his eyes were something else. He stared at her captor with such cold, controlled hate as he raised his gun and aimed with an expressionless look on his face that she too felt a sting of fear clasping her heart, even though she was already frightened more than ever before.

´ Drop the gun! ´ her captor continued ´ ... or sh...´

She never saw the intent to shoot in her would be savior eyes. She never expected that someone would shoot like that, without regard for the hostage, which made what he did all the more shocking.

´ You...you...´ she could hardly find words, staring in shock at the dead body of the man who had a knife to her throat a moment ago.

Slight stinging on her cheek, where the bullet grazed her as it flew by, felt insignificant at the moment. Everything was so surreal... She reached for her neck, sighing gratefully as she found no wound.  
>She turned her head as she heard a pained moan. One of the prisoners that her friends shot was still alive and her savior was now poking his wound with an old hunting rifle Donnel always slugged around. Then, he raised the rifle and swiftly lowered it down, using the butt of the rifle to smash that prisoner´s windpipe, after which he took a closer look at the rifle, checking it for faults. She felt oddly dejected as she watched that scene. Perhaps she was still too scared or shocked by the whole thing, she thought.<p>

When he turned to her, she had a good look at him for the first time. Under a high brow, those blue eyes were looking at her with concern. His hair was black, unevenly cut and reaching over his ears. Few stray hairs were falling over his forehead. He also had a distinctive scar that started by his right eye and went from his temple to his jaw.

´ You okay? No... don´t answer that question... you can´t be okay. Here, put this around yourself. ´ he offer her his cloak. Only then she noticed that she was bare to the waist. Those animals ripped her clothes apart. Had this man not arrived... She shuddered at the thought.

´ T-thank you. ´ she said weakly as he turned to look around for any survivors.

´ _She is too traumatized even to cry. I should get her to Goodsprings as soon as I can. Doc there will hopefully know what to do with her._ ´ he thought as he checked another one for life signs. Sadly, nobody lived but her. If he had time, he´d search for anything valuable, but as things are, it won´t be long before more of those convicts arrive to the scene. Still, he took some ammo pouches and an ammo belt off one of dead guards. It was .32 ammo for the bolt action rifle which he took off a dead guard. Rifle was still in good enough shape, so he slung through the rifle loop he had made on the backpack. He also picked up one off smaller backpacks and threw in it several water bottles lying around. Caravan lunch meals that were neatly packaged inside the small backpack came as a bonus. They´ll need the food and water.

´ Can you walk? ´ he walked to her and offered a hand. She took it without a word and stood up. He offered her some water. ´ I am Vincent Kane. Look... you are the only one that survived. We cannot linger here or we will get more of those guys on our tail. ´ he regarded her for a moment. She was quite pale, though with what she has been trough it came as no surprise. Her blonde hair was now dirty and messy, with several strands falling on her plain face. She had blue eyes, but unlike his deep blue, hers had color of the crystal clear sky.

´ Ringo... he... he ran away. ´ she finally spoke up after taking a sip, looking around. It finally hit her. ´ They´re all dead... ´

´ Come.´

Vincent placed an arm around her and started walking, a sullen expression crossing his face, one that she did not see. He was against taking the road, because he feared someone else might show up. Instead, he took her west, into the hills, to an old shelter he knew of near that memorial. It is well hidden, abandoned for quite a while now and should be a safe place to spend a night. Or even two by the looks of the weather. It looked like a storm was brewing.

Before long, she started to quietly sob. As tears ran down her cheeks and he felt more pathetic than ever, because he had no words to comfort her, this stranger he just saved. He kept his arm around her, offering her what little comfort physical touch could give.

Just like back then...

´ _Why is it that I can´t ever save someone before they´re hurt...?_´

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><p><strong>Author Notes:<strong>

When things are in _italics_, its characters thoughts. Just putting that out there in case someone did not already figure that one out.

Hmm... other thing I should probably note is the timeline I´m going with, which is the one we most commonly use as canon in Fallout.


	2. Round 2

_Story moves on..._

_UPDATE! 06.09.2011 A major revision of the ending of this chapter, tidying it up and introducing an expected face.  
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><p><strong>NEW VEGAS BLUES<strong>  
><strong>ROUND 2, STUCK IN THE STORM<strong>

Sandstorms have always been a wild card in Mojave, most of all because of the unpredictability of their coming. When they do come, nobody knows how will they last. Usually sandstorms are day long, give or take. But sometimes, they last longer, with some sandstorms spanning over several days.  
>Normally, lesser storms impede your line of sight and speed of travel, but greater ones can kill a man if he wanders out there without proper protection. Within an hour or two, man chokes to death because of all the sand and dust that enters his lungs.<p>

It appears that this storm is one of bigger ones, at least that was what Vincent thought. They´ve been in this empty old bunker for nearly two days now. Alone, he could reach Goodsprings if he wanted to. But his companion wouldn´t be so lucky.  
>After they went off road, it became apparent that his new companion, who introduced herself as Emily when she stopped crying for a while, is hurt physically too. When they somehow managed to get to the hiding place, they looked over her left leg. She admitted that something hit her during that fight, but she didn´t pay any attention to it till then.<br>As far as Vincent could understand with his limited(even that is a stretch) medical expertise, her lower leg was fractured, if not even broken. He did his best to immobilize her leg and spare her the most of the pain with a shot of Med-X, but that won´t help her much. She needs a real doctor.

Sighing, he walked back into common room, where Emily was sitting by the fire. At least the bunker still had its emergency supplies, among them some stuff to burn, clean water and even some canned food.

´You´re awake.´ he said, sitting down by the wall. She slept almost the entire past day.

´Yes... were you outside?´ she asked, eyeing him. She looked a bit better.

´Aye...´ he replied, taking out and lighting a cigarette.

´Is it that bad?´

´It has lessened, but it will still be at least half a day till we can leave. You never know with storms like this one...´ he said as he blew some smoke away.

´I still think we could go now. I feel better.´ her voice certainly sounded confident enough.

´No, you look better.´ he told her sardonically. ´You´re still just as hurt as the first day. There´s a difference between the two.´

´Are you always so grumpy?´ she pouted.

´Just with people who act like they´re stronger than they are. If you push yourself, you will die. Out in that storm, with a busted leg, you would be a liability. You can hardly see five feet before you in that mess. Hiking to Goodsprings is out of question as it is and going back to the road can lead to another ambush. I´d rather not take my chances. ´ his voice mellowed out towards the end, so he sounded almost sympathetic to her.

´It´s not like I have a choice now, is it?´ Emily muttered, leaning back to the wall. Her leg hurt a little, but it was nothing unbearable as long as she remained still.

´No, I suppose not.´

´Why did you save me? Most people would just kill whoever survived and then loot the caravan. I am nothing to you, after all.´ she noticed how his eyes seemed a bit distant as she asked that question, as if he remembered something. Still, he replied with an even tone.

´I am not most people... I don´t need a reason to help someone.´ he said, merely enticing her curiosity.

´Kane, I find that rather hard to believe. Nobody acts like that without a reason, be it for their own personal gain or satisfaction. I doubt you´d have saved just anyone.´ that was generally how current world worked, at least in her opinion.

´_She is right in that regard..._´ however, he did not tell her that. ´Why do you care so much?´

´I wish to get to know my savior little better.´ she replied.

´Hardly anything interesting about me.´ he said in turn, turning his eyes towards her. ´I´d rather know how are you holding up? I mean...´

´Did I know any of those people? Was I close with them?´ she offered, sighing afterwards. ´Yes... I knew some of them. Donnel was a friend. You have his rifle now. Jonas too, one of the guards... he had the best jokes... Milly... Others on the other hand... I did not know so well. This was my first caravan run to Vegas... Can´t believe it turned out like this...´ sadly, no tears came. She cried for the most of the first day and was now left with just a hole in her heart. She had no more tears for anyone, be it the dead, Ringo or herself.

´What about Ringo?´ he kept her talking. He didn´t want to talk about himself.

´He is... my fiancée.´

´Ex-fiancée if I am any judge.´ Vincent said disdainfully. Who abandons their compatriots deserves nothing but scorn in his opinion.

´You have that look on your face again.´

´What look?´

´Whenever topic we speak of touches your own past, you look... ashamed.´

´_Nothing but scorn for those that abandon their companions... that includes me_.´ he thought, but kept his thoughts to himself. Instead, he replied with feigned cheerfulness, matching his expression to the tone. ´That so? Must be your imagination. So... what will you do if we find him in Goodsprings?´

´I will smack him. And then I´ll kiss him. I hope he survived...´ she said wistfully.

´That is stupid.´ he reasoned, unable to grasp her logic. ´If he abandoned you, why would you go back to him? To a coward like him?´

´So what if he ran away? If he had stayed, I´d have died. Besides... technically... he was dragged away.´ she said quietly, prompting him to look at her with an eyebrow raised.

´Do tell.´

´He was fixing some belts on one of the brahmin packs when they ambushed us. The animal freaked out and dashed off, dragging him along. I suppose his arm got stuck when one of the loops suddenly tightened.´ she explained. Vincent laughed coarsely, startling her.

´Then he isn´t a coward, he is merely incompetent! Such an improvement!´

´He is a good man who always looked after his own! Who always did his best! What would you know of him! You, a wanderer who owns nothing but his own life, with nobody depending on you... who needs no reasons to do anything! You protect someone and think yourself a worthy judge of others because you did one good deed!´ she leashed out, anger and frustration at her predicament pouring out. Unfortunately, she strained herself by moving too much, which resulted in a painful moan as she moved her injured leg. He reached into his pack and took out another syringe of Med-X, but she shook her head and pushed the drug away when he offered it.

Silence descended upon the room, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

´Sorry.´ he finally broke the silence. She did have a point, even if he was reluctant to admit it.

´Yeah... me too. It´s just... he worked so hard to get where he is... without anyone to support him till he met me and my folks. I feel bad that he lost it all like this.´

´_Everyone has a bloody sob story.´ _Vincent wasn´t interested in listening to another one, so he remained silent, taking out his Colt and checking it over, grateful for the fact that she didn´t continue.

After he was done with the gun, he moved on to the rifle.

It was in fairly good condition, a bolt action hunting rifle. Scratches, dents and duck taped butt spoke of quite a bit of usage, but at least it´s previous owner had decency to keep it in good shape. Vincent assumed that it is because it was a family heirloom, most rifles like this one are.

As he did his routine check, he didn´t notice that Emily was quietly watching him.

Vincent had his mind full of his own little questions. First of all, why did he even save this woman? It is just as she said, he didn´t have to. Most people wouldn´t. Most people would just move on, or if feeling brave, they would wait for an opportunity after the convicts are done with the woman to kill them and then steal the goods. It was the way the Wasteland works, even with so called progress that New Vegas and it´s ruler, Mr. House had brought. NCR and Legion weren´t much better, each trying to gain a real foothold in Nevada in its own way, be it by ´democracy´ or iron fist. Brotherhood of Steel that was here before was no better, he knew that better than most.

Secondly, what the hell is he supposed to do now? Take her to Goodsprings and just leave her there? If he does find that Ringo fellow there, he supposed it would be okay to do so. Emily loved the man and was willing to forgive him. But if Ringo isn´t there, will he just dump her there with the old Doc?

Vincent rubbed his temple, frustrated by the whole situation. Sandstorm wasn´t helping either. His job was to deliver a package to Doc, which he will do, albeit a bit later than he planned. That thought saddened him a bit. He always prided himself in his swift deliveries. Not once did he deliver something behind the schedule.

´He can always rebuild, right? Crimson Caravan is quite influential, after all.´ he broke the silence in the end, snapping her out her reverie.

´Yes, I suppose so.´ she agreed, after which she said. ´You´re a good man after all.´

´Where did that come from?´ he stopped what he was doing. The ´after all´ part stung a bit.

´You wouldn´t be here otherwise.´

´There is a sandstorm out there.´ he pointed out.

´You said it yourself, you could get to Goodsprings if you wanted to. I´m the problem.´ she concluded, taking a sip of the water afterwards.

´I´m not a good man.´ he told her sternly, looking at the small fire.

´You are in my eyes.´ Emily shrugged. ´How long have you been a courier?´

´Seven months, give or take.´

´And before?´ when she didn´t get an answer, she tilted her head a bit. ´In the army? With NCR? You killed those three easily, without any hesitation, like a proper soldier. Were you one of those famed snipers form the 1st Recon?´

´No, I was not NCR. And those three were focusing too much on you, otherwise it wouldn´t have been so easy.´ he replied in even tone.

´I doubt you were Legion. One of the Great Khans perhaps?´ she kept asking, her curiosity stronger than the notion that she shouldn´t be asking him such questions.

´No.´ his reply was shorter and quicker, without any emotion attached to his voice or his expression.

´Brotherhood of Steel?´

´No.´ he repeated, suddenly standing up.

´You´re lying.´ she accused him.

´Only because I want to. Drop the subject Emily.´ a tint of threat came beneath the polite way he said it.

The change in his voice and polite demeanor was barely noticeable, but it startled Emily nonetheless, so she bit back her questions.

In the end, she didn´t find anything else about him. After another two hours, sandstorm suddenly subsided and they begun their hike to the small settlement called Goodsprings, where she hoped to find her beloved and he hoped to finish the job without further interference.

Vincent arrived in Goodsprings, hauling two backpacks and an injured woman in the late afternoon. He immediately took her to Doc, after which he went down to the saloon to ask around for any whereabouts of trader called Ringo. By some luck, Ringo actually survived the dash of the frightened brahmin and Trudy, the major of the ´town´ allowed him to hide in the gas station in case Powder Gangers(Hilariously ridiculous name in his opinion) come looking for him as he witnessed the ambush.

He found Ringo in the gas station, as she said.

After seeing how Ringos left arm was hanging by the linen cloth on his chest, Vincent couldn´t find it in himself to berate the man for the fact that he allowed himself to be carried off by crazy brahmin when everyone else was dying. With an dislocated and fractured arm, he would be of no use in the firefight anyhow. So after he convinced the man that he isn´t a threat to him, he told him who he was and who he brought to Doc.

...

Even Vincent winced when her fist connected to the man´s face, who promptly fell on his ass, still looking like he was about to start crying out of happiness. To his credit, Ringo took it as a man, standing up right away and practically leaping in her direction, embracing her in a tight hug without any regard for his injured arm.

´Hey, don´t do that! Do you want to worsen your condition?´ Doc Mitchell complained, shaking his head slightly and rubbing his temple in frustration. Vincent wondered for a moment if he meant her or him.

´Let them be Doc, see how happy they are to see each other.´ Vincent remarked. He folded his arms across his chest and grinned as Emily and Ringo looked in their direction.

´Well... if they need me, I´ll be in the next room, looking after the other patient.´ Doc said, walking out of the room afterwards with the package Vincent delivered. Vincent followed suit, but Ringo called out to him.

´Wait!´

´Eh? Need me for something?´ Vincent turned to the short brown haired man with a nasty bruise forming across the right cheek. Ringo offered him his right hand.

´Thank you for saving her. I have no way to repay you properly now, but if you even come to Crimson Caravan headquarters in New Vegas, I´ll properly reward you.´

´I´ll take your word for it.´ he accepted his hand and shook it briefly. He looked to Emily as he let go. ´I´ll stick a while longer in Goodsprings, so we might chat again.´

´Thank you again.´ she said, still sitting on that bed, her leg properly taken care of.

´Don´t worry about it.´ he said, waving his hand as he walked out of the living room. Out of curiosity, he entered the room where all the medical stuff was. There really was someone else Doc was checking upon, lying still on the bed by the window.

Vincent glanced about the room. There was standard edition Vit-o-Matic Vigor Tester by the doorframe. Directly across the room of it there was an operation table, which was still stained by the dry blood of last operation, which Vincent assumed was done on the prone form behind the makeshift curtain.

There were a couple Stimpaks on boxes stuffed on some old, rusty metal shelves as well as a box of Sunset Saprilla. On top of the box was an 9mm machine gun. Still, Vincent didn´t touch anything. He isn´t a thief.

´Hey Doc, your package all good?´ he finally asked, walking up to the writing table where Doc kept his notes. Contents of the package he delivered were scattered across the table. They were, as Vincent expected, medical supplies. Stimpaks, Super Stimpaks, medical braces and other stuff he didn´t know a thing about. His knowledge of medicine extended to the soldier field aid.

´Yes, everything is in good order. Though... think you could do some more work for me before you take off? I´ll make it worth your while.´ Doc walked out and sat at his table.

´Sure thing Doc, what do you want me to do?´ Vincent told him, glancing at him. He looked weary.

´I need more antidote for poison many of critters around here carry in fangs, teeth and who knows where else. I can make some, but I´ll need you to get me some radscorpion poison glands. Maybe you´ll even run into a couple of cazadores. If you do, take their glands too. You can find those little buggers a small way up north, after you pass our local cemetery.´

´Fine, I can handle that.´ it wasn´t an dream job, lugging the those things around, but he was willing to take it. ´What´s the pay?´

´How does a couple of stimpaks sound to you?´

´Good enough.´ Vincent smiled, nodding slightly at the old man. Doc Mitchell offered him a weary smile of his own. Still, Vincent was curious. ´Who´s in behind the curtain?´

´A young woman that got shot in the head twice last night. I was working hard to save her and have finally gotten her stabilized right before you came. That´s why I look so damn tired...´ old man released an tired sigh.

´She got shot in the head twice? And she lived?´ Vincent was astounded. ´That´s some will to live... Amazing.´ he added, looking to the prone form.

´Yeah, you courier lot are a though bunch.´ his words cut right though Vincent, twisting his insides in sudden rush of anxiety and fear. He blinked a couple of times, surprise evident on his face.

He knew only one woman that worked for Mojave Express. He walked over to the bed.

Indeed, she was laid down on the bed, ghostly pale. A couple of stray strands of her chestnut hair fell over her face, dried of any color. Just over her left brow, there were two small scars. It was like he was looking at a corpse, but she was still alive, her chest was rising slowly with every breath. With one part of mind, Vincent couldn´t help but to notice that Doc really did patch her up right, even after she suffered such wounds.

Vincent sat at the edge of the bed, looking at her. He rubbed his stubble absentmindedly as he contemplated the fact that the only person he was really close with these past few months was lying here after being shot in the head. Doc Mitchell merely sat there, observing him with an keen eye, as if he knew or at least had a vague feeling that Vincent just decided to go after those that shot her, be it alone or with her when she wakes up.

´Kate...´

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><p><strong>Author Notes:<strong>

_As promised, short summary of the important stuff._

_**Goodsprings**__ is a small mining town that has been repopulated by people who wish to stay out of troubles of others, independent. Thought trade is weak, community has fresh water and is able to sustain themselves._

_**NCR**__ is short for New California Republic, formed in year 2186, 95 years before the current timeline. It is a nation built in image of the USA before the Great War, which has been expanding ever since its formation. Currently, NCR seeks to expand to east after unifying Core Regions(American West Coast and Southwest.)._

_**Caesar's Legion**__ is an autocratic, ultra-reactionary, utilitarian slaver society based on that of the old Roman Empire, founded in 2255 by Caesar and Joshua Graham, and led by Caesar since that time. Currently, it is in stalemate with NCR after the First Battle of the Hoover Dam._

_**New Vegas**__, originally known as Las Vegas in the Wasteland before Robert House revived its reconstruction, is a city upon the remains of Las Vegas, located in southern Nevada. Unlike the other major cities of the United States, Vegas emerged from the atomic fire of the Great War relatively unscathed, with most of the major damage caused by the downfall of society in general._


	3. Round 3

_And thus we finally catch up to the main plot. Do we?_

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><p><strong>NEW VEGAS BLUES<strong>  
><strong>ROUND 3, GHOST TOWN GUNFIGHT<strong>

Kate was still out cold, that much he knew.

Of all the people he met over the past few months, she was the friendliest one around, always charming and easygoing. Most of the her problems she solved by talking as opposed to the general policy everyone had, which was to threaten, wave your gun around and even shoot the guilty party.

With an natural opposite like that before him, he couldn´t help but to hang out with her on a couple of odd jobs. Still, they never got far, since she too was quite like him in one regard. She kept her past mostly to herself. As he doesn´t a habit of asking about past of others, she seemed fine with his company.

It was an odd, but functional companionship. Maybe even friendship, he wasn´t quite sure himself.

Much to his chagrin, nobody knew much about folks that shot her in the head and left her for dead. Only things he knew were that there was a man in a checkered coat, most likely from New Vegas and several members of Great Khans.

Robot who fancies himself a cowboy and calls himself Victor didn´t tell him much either, so all Vincent did these last two days besides that small job for Doc was sitting around in the local bar, drinking water or warm beer and talking with the local ´ranger´, a pint sized girl called Sunny Smiles or the bar owned Trudy.

One good thing was that there was no sight of Powder Gangers. Vincent made a mental note to make fun off the name when he runs into one of them next time.

Still, that didn´t take the edge off Ringo, who was still hiding in the old gas station, with Emily as company. The merchant still believed they would show up, looking for them. Vincent merely shrugged on the notion. Whether they come or not, it´s not going to make a difference in the end, as nobody in town is going to rat out on Ringo and Emily.

But, today was different. As he was returning to Goodsprings after visiting that bunker to get more supplies, a familiar voice called his name.

´Vincent!´ he stopped in his tracks, looking over the shoulder at the approaching figure.

´Kate.´ he turned to get a better look at her. She was wearing some old, dark blue jumpsuit that was modified with pieces of armor for better protection. A 10mm pistol was in a holster hanging by her hip, shotgun strapped over her shoulder, along with an grenade launcher. She looked better by all accounts.

´That´s it? A deadpan ´Kate´? ´ she sighed, continuing. ´You´re not going to say you´re happy to see me up and alive?´

´It´s good to see you up and running again.´ he repeated after her, glad that she still had her sense of humor.

´So, been worried ´bout little old me?´ she teased.

´Not particularly. After all, you did survive being shot in the head twice. It was only a matter of time till you got up.´

´Such a heartless jerk.´ she grinned. ´But you did stay because of me.´ it wasn´t a question.

´Seemed proper.´ he replied, suddenly serious. ´So, are you going after them?´

´Need you ask? I got shot over some Platinum Chip. I want to know why.´

´Platinum Chip?´ he never heard of a chip made of platinum.

´Yeah, it was something I was to deliver to the Strip. But I got ambushed by those bastards. Stupid little thing to try to kill someone over, don´t you think?´

´I suppose so. Old man Nash gave you the job?´ he didn´t know what to think of the matter. Must be some special chip, he thought.

´Yeah, it was a big one, there were six couriers hired to do it.´ she said, looking at him questionably afterwards. ´That reminds me, where were you when we got that job? A job of your own?´

´Yeah, had some stuff to deliver. But along the way, I tangled with Powder Gangers that ambushed and killed a Crimson Caravan traders. Only ones that survived were Ringo and Emily. They´re up in the gas station.´ he explained.

´Powder Gangers? Hah! That´s a stupidest thing I´ve heard in a while. But I´ll make sure to talk with those two... Ringo and Emily, you said? Maybe they saw something that others didn´t...´ she started walking towards Prospectors Saloon.

´Kate... is it really okay for you to be up and around?´

´Sure it is. Doc said so. I´ve already gone hunting geckos with Sunny earlier today. How come I didn´t come across you earlier? If Sunny hadn´t mentioned you by an off-hand comment about firmness of your ass, I wouldn´t have known you were here.´ she chuckled afterwards, glancing at his ass.

´Hey, stop checking out my ass.´ he reprimanded her, making her chuckle again. ´Anyhow... I went to get some leftover ammo from an old supply cache.´ he answered her earlier question.

´So, you coming with me to Primm? I have an urge to find out more about this job.´

´I thought you´d never ask.´ he wryly smiled as they entered the saloon, where their attention was immediately caught by raised voices.

There was some imposing black guy in an prison riot armor talking with Trudy. More like threatening her actually.

´Woman, don´t play coy with me, I know you´re hiding that caravaneer.´ he was bald, with an nasty scar going over his right eye to the jaw. Scruffy beard was covering a part of it, but he couldn´t hide it completely. His only weapon was a 9mm pistol, which he was currently lying his hand on.

´I´m telling you, I don´t know what you´re talking about.´ Trudy replied, scowling at him with her arms crossed across her chest.

´Their gunman took a couple of my boys. I ain´t letting this slide.´ Vincent exchanged a swift glance with Kate, realizing he might have done more harm than good by getting involved. That convict continued, still unaware of Vincent and Kate who were standing at the door, listening the exchange. ´I´m comin back here with my boys and we will have him. Might even burn down this pathetic little town if you don´t hand him over. Nobody messes with Joe Cobb and the Powder Gangers.´

´Fine. If you´re not buying anything, get out.´ Trudy replied coldly, still scowling at the man.

Joe Cobb turned on his heel and walked out, glancing suspiciously at Vincent. When they looked each other in the eyes, Joe smirked viciously, his eyes glistening with malice and realization. Vincent had nothing but pure disgust for the man in his eyes, but he kept his mouth shut this time.

´Trudy, what are you going to do now?´ Kate asked with concern. Trudy was looking at Vincent.

´Ask your friend. He is the one that shot those convicts to save Emily. It isn´t unexpected that Powder Gangers would come looking here and lies might have kept them away, but that Joe Cobb is bad news.´

´You did what?´ Kate was now looking at him too.

´I killed them to save the girl. Didn´t think it would end up this serious. I mean, trash like that guy die all the time.´ he replied defensively. Kate sighed, rubbing her temple.

´With you it´s always kill people or don´t kill people. Don´t you know how to talk things trough?´ she asked him, suddenly annoyed.

´I can´t be like you Kate, charming and with a silver tongue. Besides, those guys weren´t in mood to listen.´ he shot back.

´Then what should we do? Kill them? They´re a big group, by the sound of it.´ Kate sat down on one of the bar stools.

´I suppose I will give myself in then.´ Ringo cut in, entering the saloon from the back door.

´No.´ Kate and Trudy said at the same time. Vincent rubbed his jaw, noting how Ringo stood straighter, like a proper man ready to carry his burdens.

´It´s for the best. I don´t want people of Goodsprings to suffer because of me and Emily stays safe. He said he was looking for one caravaneer who he thinks killed his fellows.´

´I don´t think he´ll buy it. You don´t look capable of killing three of his men with straight headshots between the eyes at point blank range.´ Vincent told him.

´That´s an awfully specific description. It sounds like you practically executed them.´ Kate noted, glancing at him with an raised eyebrow. Vincent shrugged at her.

´What do you propose we do then?´ Trudy asked.

´It´s quite simple. We...´ Kate started, looking at the two.

´...fight back.´ Vincent finished, prompting Kate to smile. She knew he´d finish her line.

´This just a small town. We are not soldiers.´ Trudy glanced between them as if they went mad.

´Then don´t fight. Those who want to can fight with us. Others don´t have to.´ Vincent said.

´I am not about to let others fight for us. I will see if others wish to help.´ Trudy told him, walking out of the bar afterwards. Ringo went along with her.

´Hmph... and you say I have a silver tongue.´ remarked Kate when they left.

´I do what I have to in order to win.´ he quoted a man he once knew.

´I´ll go and talk around the town with people willing to fight. Sunny most likely will. Got to stop by the gas station and ask Ringo about that guy that shot me too. Maybe you should see Doc and ask him for some stimpaks?´ she jumped of the stool. He stopped her as she was passing by him.

´Are you fine with this?´ he asked. Neither were looking at each other, each looking straight ahead.

´No. But I don´t see any other way to settle this. Sometimes your way is the best one.´ she said quietly, walking out of the saloon.

´_Yeah.._.´

...

Doc Mitchell didn´t help much. He spared a few stimpaks, but he won´t be joining the fact because of his bad leg. Vincent didn´t hold it against him.

He took his rifle, filled a few clips and strapped them in the bandolier. After doing the same with the ammo for the Colt, he walked out of Docs home, just in time to see Sunny going up the slope to meet him.

´They´re coming. At least a dozen, if not two dozens of them, armed to the teeth and filthy. Trudy and some others will set up at the saloon and Kate is going to be shooting at them with me from the roof of the saloon. We also have some dynamite, do you want a few?´ she explained the situation as they walked down to the saloon towards Kate.

´Okay. I´ll set up over there.´ he pointed to the one of the bigger rocks halfway up the hill to where the graveyard is. He should have a nice vintage point from there once those bastards come into view and should be well out of range for buckshot or those little pistols. ´Keep the dynamite, I don´t want to end up blowing my hands off.´

´Okay. Good luck!´ she ran off to her position.

´All set?´ he asked Kate.

´Yeah. Good to go. You?´ he nodded.

´Kate?´ she looked a bit troubled. It is to be expected, but still, he had to ask.

´Nothing... it´s nothing. Don´t get killed.´ she said, wandering off to her post.

´I don´t plan to.´ he said to himself as he ran over to his picked position.

He knelt down and aimed his rifle down the road, partially obscured from the sight by the dry bush.

Sunny was right. There he counted seventeen of them. It is going to be tight one, as townsfolk numbered nine, Vincent and Kate included. But they had the element of surprise.

Everyone said hidden as the convicts approached. Vicent picked his target, one small guy that was carrying a lot of dynamite on him. Others were armed with police batons, 9mm pistols or those useless one shot shotguns. They weren´t armored. Only Joe Cobb and couple of others had some semblance of armor. Others were still in their prisoner clothes, or entirely shirtless.

Just as they entered the range of townsfolk guns, that dynamite packing guy lit one of the fuses.

Vincent pulled the trigger and hit his mark. Convict dropped over like a sack, lit dynamite tumbling from his hand. His companions immediately started fleeing around to any semblance of cover they could find, taking a few potshots at him. He instinctively ducked behind cover as the dynamite exploded, blowing away two more of the Powder Gangers.

Now the townsfolk started shooting too, downing four more convicts before they got organized. Falling behind cover the ruined houses and rocks could offer, Powder Gangers started to fight back.

Vincent shot again, killing one of those shotgun totting convicts that were coming too close to saloon. Another convict started shooting at him from some old automatic, scattering chunks of ricochet and stone all over Vincents meager cover for a few moments before Sunny placed a hole in his hand. Man started screaming, falling out of his cover, after which several people shot at him. He fell over, his blood soaking the dry earth and sand.

Conflict wasn´t without victims on the townsfolk side either. One of the villagers caught a pistol round in his gut, after which Ringo dragged him away to safety. Emily, who was shooting with an old varmint rifle from the cover of the old dumpster, was shot in the shoulder. Luckily, thanks to leather armor Chet the town merchant provided, it was merely a flesh wound.

Vincent just shot another one when someone yelled for everyone to take cover and lunged at least four dynamites in convicts direction. Following the ear piercing explosions, those few Powder gangers that survived started to run.

They didn´t get very far, because Kate and Sunny had good aim.

Only one that did get away down the road and out of range of townsfolk guns was the Joe Cobb himself, a robber, arsonist and murderer without regrets. Even as he was running, he swore to himself to be back with more lads Eddie will surely provide to kill every last one of the sons of bitches that lived in Goodsprings.

Vincent, upon seeing that he was getting away, stood out of his cover and shot at him. In his haste, the missed, but Joe Cobb didn´t notice, his hearing still dulled by the explosion earlier.

Cursing himself for his rashness, he took aim again.

His breathing was steady. He didn´t think about the distance. Only thing that existed was his target, the steady beat of his own heart and the sights of his rifle, just as his father had thought him, years ago.

He looked down the sight, held his breath and squeezed the trigger.

And with that single shot, legend of Ghost Town Gunfight was born.

* * *

><p><strong>Author Notes:<strong>

_**Kate **__is the __**Courier**__, main character of Fallout New Vegas. I found the notion of leaving the name Courier stupid. It is easier to relate and develop a bond with a character that has a proper name._

_I deliberately increased the number of Powder Gangers that came. In game, there is less Gangers than people in the town. It felt better to increase their number, to back up Cobbs claims that he has enough manpower to actually burn the town down and to further add to their overconfidence. Seven people strolling in down the road isn´t very scary._


End file.
